


Changes to Wing's Charge

by Cyberra, gatekat



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, First Time, Knights of Light, M/M, Sparklings, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberra/pseuds/Cyberra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IDW Knights of Light, Drift/Wing.<br/>When Drift is ordered to go along with Wing and others to investigate a meteor impact site, no one could have expected Wing's charge to become a very different kind of dependent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes to Wing's Charge

Wing didn't show any outward sign when Dai Atlas pinged his comm while he was sparring with Drift. Or more correctly, throwing Drift around with his own momentum and trying to point out a better way to attack.

::Bring your pet Decepticon to the roof. You are going with Axe and Demeter to investigate an impact with unusual readings.::

::We'll be right there,:: Wing commed back, sending Drift helm-over-skidplate across the room again. Twitching a wing, he settled into a relaxed stance. "That's enough for now."

Drift growled and huffed as he stood, well aware that they were quitting early but in that unpleasant place of relieved it was over for the orn and angry that he hadn't made any progress. So he stalked out after Wing, meeting looks with angry glares but otherwise remaining silent as Wing led him along an unfamiliar path.

The white jet glanced back just briefly, making sure Drift was still following him and hadn't tried to slip away. He nodded greetings to the other Knights they passed. Once they reached the roof, he trotted over to the black Knight and the dark brown turbofox, greeting both of them cheerfully.

"Any progress?" Demeter asked with a cheerful yip and look at the sulking half-white mech glaring at them.

"There were a few less curses this orn than last orn," Wing replied cheerfully. "Though that might be because we ended early today." Trotting over to Axe, he pressed briefly against black armor, then stood next to the larger mech. "So, what're we going to investigate, and where did it land?"

"Landed out in the desert," the big triple changer made a vague motion up and away from the city. "Demeter and Drift are riding in me," he transformed and opened the hatch on his side. "You can fly."

The jet nudged Drift over toward Axe with a wingtip. "Behave." Ignoring the resulting snarl, he flared out his wings, stretching them as Drift was sort of herded inside by the turbofox alt and his creator to lift off. Then he was in the air and flying at the larger mech's side.

::Just how much of a beating settles him?:: Demeter asked with a mixture of polite curiosity and resignation that she was going to be the one making their resident Decepticon behave for a flight that was the better part of a joor. She laid down in the small hold with the much larger, ill-tempered but less skilled warrior across from her, glaring at her as the only thing to glare at.

Both Demeter and Axe noted that Drift easily shifted his weight and tension to adapt to the takeoff while standing. It was a skill very few possessed and spoke of doing this thousands of times.

::Depends on how much of a temper fit he works himself into. Sometimes it takes throwing him around the training room all orn before he grouchily settles. For a while.:: Just for the heck of it, Wing flipped upside-down, flying like that for a while before righting himself.

::Right.:: She sighed slightly and watched her temporary charge. ::Forgive me if I have to put him in his place hard and fast if he acts up then. Inside Axe is no place for an extended match.::

::If you were bigger than he is, I'd advise knocking him flat and sitting on him if you had to. But since he's bigger than you, do whatever you have to,:: the white mech replied, slowing a bit to fall in behind and just to one side of Axe for the passage through the tunnels to the surface.

::I'll make him behave,:: she promised. ::You enjoy your first legal flight in ages.::

The flight was fairly uneventful. Wing played in the air just because he could, darting and spinning and barrel-rolling, though not venturing too far away from Axe. The feel of the suns on his plating and the hot desert air rushing over his wings was a wonderful sensation. His chirr was clearly audible to Axe even over the sound of two sets of jet engines.

Finally, their target appeared on the scanners. Wing settled into normal flight, making a curious sound at the odd energy readings his sensors were registering, taking up a position just off Axe's wing as the pair headed for the ground. Wing landed on his pedes just outside the ring of glass the impact had made while Axe set down in alt mode so his passengers could disembark before he transformed.

"I've never encountered anything like this." Axe hummed, then glanced at Drift, he was standing, arms crossed over his chest and seemingly not paying them or the glowing meteorite any attention.

The white face turned up to look at him, then glared at the object in question. "It's a rock."

"Not just a rock, Drift." Wing paced around the edge of the crater, but kept his distance from the meteor itself. "I'm reading some really odd energies in this thing."

"A radioactive rock," he corrected himself with a shrug. "Space is full of them."

"Wing, be ready to grab me if the radiation compromises something," Demeter instructed and padded into the glassy zone, moving quickly on four legs, though not nearly as fast as the small jet could fly.

The jet chirped in response, sidling nearer, within easy lunge-and-grab range. He eyed the rock, wings twitching as she moved closer, then closer until she was far enough away he would have to launch and fly to get her out.

Drift's attempt at being blasé about failed rather miserably, though why he was interested was less apparent.

"The readings are strong, but I'm getting no interference with any systems." Demeter called to them from where she'd climbed on top of the glowing lump.

"Come on then, let's get some samples for the scientists and the rest of the data they'll want," Axe said, mostly to his creation, but it included Drift by proxy and they all knew it.

Wing nodded, easing closer. He looked the rock over, circling it to get a look from all angles before stepping right over to it. It glowed, and he could feel the radiation caress some sensors and systems, but as Demeter had said, it didn't interfere with any of them. It wasn't dangerous.

He felt Axe push a powerful scan through the rock, then nod. "It's solid. Let's get a few chunks and some of this glass and head back."

"Which would you prefer, Demeter... Meteor or glass?" Wing looked at the femme, fishing out a sample container.

"I'll get glass. You big mechs can break the rock," she grinned and hopped down to pick up pieces from several spots where their pedes had broken the glossy surface.

Axe chuckled and slammed a fist into the large stone, breaking off several hand-sized chunks.

Wing carefully scooted a couple fair-sized chunks and as many shards as he could wrangle into the sample container, giving the scientists plenty to work with. Humming to himself, he sealed the container, picking his way across the fused glass back onto normal sand. Drift dutifully padding after him, scowl and grumble firmly in place and ignored by all as Axe transformed, the grounders got on board and they were in the sky again.

Less than a breem into the flight Drift couldn't keep the pained, half-panicked sound from escaping his vocalizer as he felt his armor begin to pull away from his protoform, the myriad of cilia that connected the metal to his living form stretched and then released over several kliks.

"Drift?" Demeter approached him carefully. His armor was normal, but what was inside was _shrinking_. "Primus," she gasped as it fully registered. "Axe, get Wing in here. He needs to take his charge to Redline _now_. We should hurry too."

As soon as Wing got the comm, he was practically clinging to the hatch, ignoring the wind that threatened to tear him off. As soon as the hatch was opened enough for him to squeeze through he was in, ignoring the scraped paint and the slight sting in armor panels that had scraped roughly against Axe's harder plating. He narrowly avoided tripping over Demeter in his haste to reach Drift, trying to figure out what was going on.

The mech was in pain, terrified and his armor loose. One pede set had already slipped away from the shrinking protoform inside.

"Grab him and _fly_!" Demeter ordered harshly. "Don't worry about the armor. Just get him to Redline."

Wing promptly scooped Drift up, holding him tightly, actually managing to bend some of the loosening armor in his grip. The instant he was sure he had a firm hold, he threw himself back out the hatch, his engines igniting with a howl. Within a few moments he was a white speck in the distance, leaving Axe behind. After another moment all that could be seen was Wing's contrails, diving into the tunnel the group had emerged from and returning to the hidden city as quickly as he could without hitting anything on the way. It was the greatest test of his stunt performance skills in longer than he could remember.

Redline was already prepping the emergency room for the unknown when Wing barreled in through the door, a white bundle in his arms missing a fair amount of armor and protoform mass.

"On the berth with him, strip the armor off and stay out of the way," Redline ordered, slipping into the role of final authority with ease.

Drift's vocalizer squeaked and sputtered in protest, but there was little he could actually do in his state to even try and stop them.

It took a klik, and a sharp look from Redline, for Wing to be able to loosen his grip on Drift. Chirring anxiously, Wing began peeling off the remaining armor, tossing it into a heap nearby, wings twitching restlessly against his back. Drift's protomass was half of what it should have been, half of what Wing had flown in a metacycle ago and it scared him despite the lack of apparent damage. Once the last piece was gone, the white jet retreated to a corner where he could see everything but not be in the way.

He stared, watching Redline run scans but fixated on seeing the protomass of his charge flake and melt away despite Redline's effort to stabilize him that ended in a regen pod. Nothing seemed to help.

"What's happening to him?" Wing turned a wide-opticked gaze on Redline, pleading for any answers, anything to understand what was going on. Drift was hard to handle sometimes, always prickly, but the white jet liked him. Wringing his hands without noticing, he dared a few steps closer, peering into the pod.

"Nothing I can fix right now," Redline huffed. "On the berth with you. There is no way he came into contact with anything you didn't, is there?"

The confused white jet obediently climbed onto the berth. "No... What we went out for, he was the only one who _didn't_ make contact with it."

"He's also the only non-Knight that was there," Redline said, not looking up from his readings when Axe walked in with Demeter on his shoulder. "The three of you all bear and are bonded to a Great Sword. The artifacts are powerful. They may have shielded you from something. In the meantime, I want those samples kept away from anyone without a Great Sword, and as many of us as possible." He looked up at Axe, who nodded his understanding. "Radiation shielded cell," he pointed to one of the doors and the big mech obediently moved.

Wing made a face, still confused. "That meteor was giving off some strange energy readings, but could it really have done... that?" He looked over at the regen pod and the still-shrinking protoform in it, ruffling his armor uneasily.

"Until I have a better answer, yes," Redline said. "You have none of the latent alien energy signatures that he does. Axe, quarantine his armor as well, and mark all the bits that fell off as hazardous material."

"Will do," Demeter said, turning to begin to track the debris.

"Oh no you don't. On the berth. Wing, off." Redline pointed imperiously.

Knowing better than to ignore an order like that, Wing scooted off the berth, sidling over to the regen pod and peering inside. One hand extended, almost but not quite touching the pod surface as he tried to see what was happening inside. Drift was so much smaller than before, though the massive shedding of material seemed to have slowed, maybe even stopped.

"He's down to 15% of his original protomass and the shedding has almost stopped," Redline commented for Wing to hear as he scanned Demeter, then Axe, and set the pair on cleanup duty. He walked over to look at the stasis locked, tiny form in the regen pod. "He's the size of a cassette now, but proportioned like a sparkling."

Gold optics widened at that. "A _sparkling_?" Wing stared at the medic, trying to be certain of what he'd heard.

"Proportioned like one," Redline emphasized. "There is no telling what his cognitive level or recall will be without bringing him out of stasis. I'm not going to do that today."

The jet looked back into the pod, reluctant to leave. It took a hand on the scruff of his neck to peel him away and get him to move. White wings twitched against his back armor. "What now?"

"Now you can either trust me with his care, or park yourself _out of the way_ and watch him float there. I don't want you in field range." Redline replied, letting the squirming jet go. "I have research to do."

White armor clamped down close to Wing's frame as he debated. He wasn't sure he'd be able to resist sneaking into field range, and he knew Redline had no problems with tossing him off the balcony if he got in the way. Gold optics went from medic to pod as Wing debated, then finally backed off.

"Let me know when you'll be taking him out if stasis?" He looked at Redline, optics widening slightly.

"Of course. He's your menace to deal with once he's awake," Redline huffed and waved him off before turning to begin digging through the medical and scientific litrature for any clue as to what was going on, or how to reverse it.

Wing snorted at that, retreating from the medical bay and heading for the washracks. He had sand in places he'd rather not have sand.

* * *

It was a restless night for the white mech. He was used to having Drift nearby, being able to at least hear the other mech stirring or grumbling. Wing got less recharge than usual, his thoughts revolving around what had happened to his charge. His ornly energon went down with little notice, only perking up when Redline pinged him to report to medbay.

The jet dropped the empty cube. He was out of the chair and off before it hit the table behind him. Other fliers darted out of his way as he raced toward the medbay balcony, so intent on his destination he nearly caused a couple of mid-air collisions. Touching down on the balcony, he skidded inside, looking around for Redline.

"In here pup," the medic's called call him into the intensive care room. "I'm about to bring him out of stasis. He's stabilized, even if he's likely to be even grumpier than usual until he grows up again."

Grumbling about the "pup" comment, Wing trotted across the main room into the intensive care unit. His optics immediately went to the medical berth and the small form on it. Not just small, but shaped in a way that Wing hadn't seen in real life before, only in recordings. A sparkling. The over-large helm, longer limbs and rounded body was nothing like the Drift he knew, yet it was. A very innocent Drift.

"He may remember everything, or he may know nothing," Redline warned him as he finished disposing of the rags he'd cleaned the small protoform up with. "If he does remember, this is going to be a terrible trauma. Either way, you're going to have a lot of extra work on your hands. Physically he'll need all the care a normal sparkling needs."

Wing could not resist cooing, easing as close as Redline would let him. "He's so cute like this." Bright gold optics took in the softened features, the longer limbs, the small size. One hand reached out to touch, then hesitated, and Wing looked over at the medic a bit warily.

"Are your sparkling care protocols engaged?" Redline asked firmly.

The white stunt jet took a moment to go through his own coding and make sure. When his optics brightened again, he nodded at the medic. "They're engaged."

"Then go ahead," he nodded. "He might bite you when he boots," he warned with a bit of a teasing look and signaled Drift's systems to cycle up.

Chuckling softly, Wing trotted over to stand next to the berth. "I'm pretty sure I've dodged worse from him. Morning mecha he isn't."

Redline huffed. "A _friendly_ mecha he isn't." 

Both of them stilled and watched as the small, unarmored protoform booted up, the expression going from peaceful to a scowl before Drift was fully conscious.

"Obviously some things stuck," Redline deadpanned.

"But right now, like this, that expression looks more cute than threatening," Wing pointed out. He leaned closer, peering down at his charge. "Drift?"

The chirp that came out was definitely a sparkling sound, and the deepening scowl spoke clearly that Drift knew _something_ was wrong. But his field, so obvious without his armor to hide it in, didn't contain the rage, pain or alienated loneliness that Wing had come to associate with the times he'd caught Drift relaxed enough to teek him. This little being wasn't happy, but it didn't have hundreds of millennia of suffering and violence behind it either.

"Well, I think that answers the question about how much he remembers," Redline murmured as he carefully plugged into the unarmored form as it was working out how to make its parts move. Firewalls as strong as those the adult Drift possessed went down only with some hacking to show a mind that only had fragments of knowledge in it. There was less there than even most sparklings had, and Redline made quick work of bringing the new life up to standards.

Wing chirred to Drift, wanting to pick him up but waiting for Redline to finish first. He settled for getting as close as he could, reaching out to gently brush his fingertips against the sparkling's cheek. "I'm not sure whether to hope those memories were erased or merely buried. If whatever happened erased them, he has a chance to grow up again with a clean slate. If they're just buried, hidden, maybe we can give him some better experiences to offset all the pain he suffered before."

"Oh, they're in there," Redline said as he pulled out just in time to watch the sparkling bite the finger stroking his cheek. It was cute only because protoform denta had no hope against adult armor, not even the thin plating of fingers. So the gnawing didn't hurt in the least. "His processors and protocols aren't advanced enough to access them. He'll regain his memories as his frame and processors mature."

"Looks like you guessed right about the biting," Wing chuckled, flicking a tiny grin at the medic before turning his attention back to the sparkling gnawing on his finger unrepentantly. "Hello, Drift."

The tiny engine growled, and then red optics brightened and the little form let go, rolled to his front and launched himself from the medberth for the door.

"Some things really don't change," Redline laughed.

Wing almost tripped himself spinning around, scooping up the sparkling. "Oh no you don't. Save the escape attempts for when you've gotten a little faster." The growl he got in response brought out a broader grin. "And you are entirely too cute to be threatening right now."

The unarmored little being in Wing's arms squirmed, and suddenly Wing was hit with a blast of panic-fear so fundamental it must have been spark-deep. White wings twitched and flapped behind the jet's back as he shifted his grip on the squirming sparkling. "It's okay; no one is going to hurt you." He flared out his field, pushing reassurance, comfort, and warmth at the tiny being.

Drift shivered, keening quietly as he soaked in the sensation that was as alien as it was addictively good.

"I'll work on some sparkling armor for him. It'll likely help calm him down to have some protection," Redline said evenly. "There's a small berthroom in the back of my office. Why don't you take him in there. It's small, enclosed and dark. I think he'll like it. I'll be a few joors."

Wing nodded. "Whatever helps him get past this fear." Chirring softly to the sparkling in his arms, Wing made his way to the tiny berthroom, really not much more than a space big enough for the single Redline-sized berth and space to stand by it, settling onto the berth with Drift. The tiny sparkling quieted much as the medic suggested he would, comforted by the dim lighting and smaller space. He quieted even more when Wing shifted and was over him, shielding him from the room even more.

The white jet crooned softly, a rambling tune as he settled in, brushing his fingertips against Drift's cheek again. Gold optics dimmed slightly, though he kept his sensors alert and trained on the sparkling, watching for any further signs of distress or any attempts to crawl away. It was almost odd that the sparkling Drift pressed closer to him, wanting to be under his shadow and tucked away, and it saddened Wing to realize that even at this age and without his memories, Drift instinctively feared the open as much as Wing craved it.

A thought flickered across Wing's processor and he slid his arm around and shifted to fully cocoon Drift in his arms and frame, creating a cave not much bigger than Drift was where he could still see out, but nothing larger than an insect could get in.

With warm, strong armor on all sides and the pulsing warmth of Wing's reassuring field wrapped round him, Drift gave into his frame's desire for recharge and curled up, pressed as tightly against strong white armor as he could.

It was both adorable and sad, Wing reflected as he watched Drift settle into recharge. Adorable to have this tiny creature cuddled into his armor, and sad that Drift was so afraid. Slender wings gave the tiniest wiggle of distress at that before folding tightly to his spinal plating again. Adjusting his position ever so slightly, Wing followed Drift into a light recharge, keeping his sensors on alert.

He roused to a ping from Redline that the armor was ready and he should bring Drift out. Wing yawned slightly, blinking as his optics warmed up. He checked on Drift, then slowly rose to his pedes, cradling the tiny form in his arms as it scrambled to boot up and walking out to the main medical bay. By the time he saw Redline Drift was fully aware and trying to move again, associating both this place and the large red and white mech with _bad things_.

With a small shake of his helm for the way the sparkling squirmed and struggled to escape when he knew absolutely that Drift took comfort in Wing's presence, Redline plugged in and knocked the sparkling off line. "Lay him down and let's get some armor on him so he doesn't feel quite so vulnerable."

Wing nodded, placing Drift on the medical berth. He hovered for a moment, then took the absolute minimum number of steps to get him out of Redline's way and refused to budge another inch, watching intently while the medic carefully attached armor to the sparkling. It took extra securing, since the sparkling systems weren't yet strong enough to hold onto it by themselves. In less than a breem Drift was booting up again and Wing was at his side.

Again the sparkling held still until he was sure of his location and condition, then he launched himself. This time, however, it was towards Wing, rather than trying to get past him.

The jet caught Drift, holding him close and chirring warmly to him. "At least he sees me as safe, rather than something to be frightened of," Wing observed, rubbing Drift's back gently. The little creature pressed against him, settling when he was once more largely concealed by Wing's arms.

"Yes," Redline hummed. "All things considered, I'd keep him far away from Dai Atlas. You might never find him again. Now open your subspace so I can stuff a few things in it you'll need."

Wing made a face. "Dai Atlas can be a little hard to avoid at times. But I'll do my best to keep Drift out of his sight." He obediently opened his subspace, allowing the medic to stuff it with supplies. "And I'll lock my balcony doors, just in case."

"I was thinking more of keeping our leader out of Drift's sight," Redline chuckled. "You know full well your creator has no resistance to sparklings. There are three things that are the most important to remember. Drift will need a little _sparkling_ energon every two to three joors, forty-two joors an orn. He will need to recharge for at least half the orn, likely more, but will do so in cycles of one to three joors between meals. If he wants to recharge, let him. If he wants energon, feed him. If he'll eat the mineral wafers, all the better. The critical thing, however, is to remember that he is extremely fragile and _he_ isn't aware of his limits. Sparklings are very easily damaged and if his adult behavior is anything to go by, this one's going to be very physical, which leads to being damaged more often. If he'd injured, don't panic. Simply fly him here and I'll repair him."

The white mech chuckled. "Nope, Dai has no resistance whatsoever, not after I finished working my sparkling whiles on him." He listened intently to the rest of Redline's instructions, nodding his understanding. "There will probably be at least some panicking the first time or two, then I should be able to just fly him here with a minimum of drama."

"He didn't like to fly?" Redline quirked an optic ridge.

"Absolutely hates flying. The few times I have flown with him he always clung as hard as he could, and I think I learned to swear in three or four new languages in the process. Somehow I doubt that will be much different now." Wing looked down at the sparkling in his arms. "Except maybe for the lack of swearing."

"Oh, sparklings can swear, quite fluently. It's just in the format of screaming their vocalizer out," Redline chuckled. "So why don't you _walk_ to your quarters, and I'll present the findings. I do want to see him every morning for scans. We need to know if he'll mature naturally, or if he's stuck at that stage."

"In the interest of saving my audials and his vocalizer, I'll walk." Wing nodded. "We'll be here in the morning. Otherwise, we'll be in my quarters." Turning, he walked out of the medical bay with a reasonably compliant all white sparkling in his arms. The Knights he passed looked startled, but didn't actually stop him until Axe came up.

"Hey lad, how is our little terror?"

"Literally a little terror now." Wing turned to face his creator, shifting his grip on the sparkling he carried as Drift roused, took note of Axe and hissed at the black and gold giant with a rumble of his tiny engine. "Though how long it'll last, no one really knows right now."

"Perhaps you will make more of an impression on him like this," Axe observed the hissing, growling little white mechaoid. "He has real spark in him. If we raise him, he may become an exceptional Knight."

"I'm hopeful that I'll be able to make a better impression on him." Wing hummed to the sparkling, stroking Drift's side and back. "Redline says all his memories are still in there, just inaccessible at the moment. Who's to say his original personality and growliness won't reassert themselves the minute he can access them again?"

"Nothing," Axe acknowledged, regarding the fierce and fearless little sparkling that was still hissing and growling at him. "However given what I am seeing now, I would say that his personality is quite steady, memories or no. What can change is how much he trusts you, and possibly the rest of us. How much of the city he enjoys. If Redline allows, take him out. Show him gardens and shops and all the things on the ground that you loved to do."

"I intend to. If he's anything like I was as a sparkling, he'll be stir-crazy before too long in a confined space." Wing regarded the sparkling affectionately. "I get the feeling I'm in for a taste of what I put you and Dai through when I was that small."

Blue optics glittered. "I suspect you may be in for more than a taste, lad," Axe grinned and turned to walk back the way he'd come. "Have fun with your charge."

In his arms, Drift gave a click of satisfaction and all but radiated a smug sense of victory. _He'd_ made the unwanted mech leave. Yes, _he_ had.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?" Wing called after his retreating creator, then chuckled and resumed his walk to his quarters. "Such a fierce little thing," he cooed to Drift, who clicked back and pressed close to white armor.

The walk back to the residence tower took longer than usual as other Knights paused to stare. They kept back, but every set of optics was fixed on Wing and the sparkling in his arms until they were out of visual range. Wing didn't mind the staring, though he tried to shield Drift to some degree, not wanting the fierce bitlet to try and actually pounce on anyone. He could feel the tension in the little frame, fierce aggression covering fear. It was so much like the adult Wing knew it was painful, and yet in this little package it gave hope that this time Wing might be able to sooth the edges in a meaningful way. Maybe with a sparkling to work with, Wing would have a better shot at understanding why Drift was the way he was, and then _reach_ him.

Finally reaching his quarters, Wing vented a sigh of relief as he closed the door, blocking out the staring optics. Settling onto the couch, he tickled Drift's side. "I hope the novelty wears off soon ... Normally I like attention, but that is just ridiculous."

Drift made a chirping sound that wasn't quite a giggle, but mixed with his field was some kind of pleasure. It didn't take long before the pleasant field turned unhappy and the click turned sharp and demanding. It took a klik for Wing to work out what Drift wanted. Rooting through his subspace, he fished out one of the cubes of sparkling energon Redline had given him. Shifting Drift on his lap, Wing offered the cube, chirping softly.

The sparkling recognized the energy and grabbed for it, greedy and with more than a small hint of pure desperation behind the move.

Wing chirred, letting Drift have the cube, holding it so the sparkling wouldn't spill it over himself in his eagerness to gulp down the liquid energy. "You can have as much as you want, little one... No one will try to take it away from you here."

Like his adult self, sparkling Drift clearly didn't believe, not yet, but the sparkling processor was all about learning quickly and adapting. Far more so than their adult processors were. At this stage, no matter what it looked like, Drift was creating his sense of self still.

The sparkling gulped down the energon much as the adult had, stopping only when it was literally up to the top of his intake. It wasn't until then that the intense discomfort hit and he wobbled. He still wanted more, deeply coded instinct driving him to consume every scrap he could find, but he was physically unable to take in any more.

The white jet gently rubbed the sparkling's back, making note of how much energon had been consumed and how much remained in the cube. He would use that later to figure out how much to give Drift without making his fuel tanks back up. "What you don't drink now you can finish later, Drift. There's no rush."

The sparkling whined, wanting to finish the cube, but even he had to obey the physical limits of his frame. As limited as the understanding was, he did understand that not one more mouthful would fit inside him until he'd processed some of what he'd already consumed.

With that, recharge protocols kicked in to give his systems the most time to process and absorb what he'd just taken in.

"There will be more energon when you wake," Wing murmured, gently prying the cube from Drift's hands and putting it aside. Cradling the tiny form upright, Wing hummed softly, crooning a rambling melody, much as Axe had done for him since Dai Atlas was completely tone-deaf. It was nearly four joors like that before Drift woke, and his field was already spiking with anger-distress-loss by the time his vocalizer powered up with a sound somewhere between growl, keen and screech.

Wing twitched slightly, startled by the sound. "Drift? What's wrong?" Wide, worried golden optics gazed down at the sparkling as Wing lifted Drift into his arms, cradling him against his chestplate. It only made Drift cry more loudly, his engine growling in displeasure.

White wings fluttered and twitched frantically behind Wing's back. Unsure of what to do, he commed Redline, tagging the comm as urgent. ::Redline, Drift is distressed and I don't know why!::

::Offer him energon. Programming will make him want to refuel as soon as he boots.:: the medic replied calmly. ::I'm on my way.::

The jet pulled out a fresh cube, refilling the first with just as much as he'd calculated Drift's tiny fuel tank could hold. Chirring anxiously, he offered the cube to Drift. The sparkling grabbed it and quieted, calming quickly as he was allowed to refuel. This time he finished the cube with its lower content and drifted off again, all before Redline arrived.

The opening door roused the sparkling, who responded with a slightly disoriented hissing growl as he struggled to boot sooner than his frame wanted to.

"He seems to have calmed down," Redline observed as he approached, considering the sparkling making an effort at an auditory threat display.

"Yes, he has." Wing rubbed Drift's back lightly, causing the small being to settle further, though his optics never left Redline. "I've never heard a sound like that from him before."

"Until linguistic protocols hook up with a vocalizer mature enough to speak, it's his only way to communicate," Redline reminded Wing gently as he ran a deep scan of the aggressive sparkling. "Given who this is, he may well not use language for some time. As I recall he wasn't much for speaking even when he could. Scans say he is fine. Simply more assertive than most." He regarded the way Drift pressed close to Wing even as he put on a threatening front. "I believe you may have made more of an impression on him as an adult than you believe."

Wing rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. "Something I'll have to remember." He looked down at Drift, tilting his head. "It seems so. More than I'd thought I had, considering how much he resisted everything."

Redline chuckled and patted Wing's head, only to pull back when Drift lunged upward to claw at him with a hissing snarl. "If nothing else, you clearly have a guard for now. I _strongly_ recommend trying to socializing him often. If he keeps that up he will hurt someone when he's larger."

"Don't do that," Wing scolded, tapping a tiny hand. It created a recoil along Drift's entire frame as tiny red optics looked at Wing, spiraled wide and bright. Shock flared through the field that only reached a few inches from his frame. "He's not going to hurt you." Rubbing the crest of Drift's helm to soothe the distress, Wing looked back up to Redline. "I might take him down to the rec lounge later."

"I think it would be good for him, even if it is likely to be a bit traumatic for everyone at first," Redline nodded and resisted the urge to touch the little frame. "I must admit, it's actually rather calming to know that he was sparked aggressive. Combined with his history, I'm amazed he was as well socialized as he managed to be."

"Hopefully this time he'll be better socialized." Wing hummed to the sparkling, brushing a fingertip against his cheek and felt the slight pulse of pleasure in return. "No need to growl at everyone, little one."

"I'll leave you to settle him, but I'm always a comm-call away," Redline promised as he turned to leave. "Your creators are a good resource for this as well. I'm sure they're expecting a share of the panicked calls."

"And a lot of amusement," Wing replied with a chuckle. "Axe is of the opinion that I'm going to get more than a taste of what I put them through. I can probably count on him to be lurking nearby taking image captures."

"No doubt," Redline chuckled before leaving.

Almost immediately Drift settled down completely. Snuggled against Wing's chest he began to drift into a light recharge.

Wing cooed to the sparkling, settling back and just watching Drift sleep.

* * *

Later that orn, Wing walked through the corridors of the Citadel, humming softly, carrying Drift in his arms. He was on his way down to the rec lounge, having timed it so the room would be only lightly occupied. His intention was to try and help Drift socialize, not traumatize him by exposing him to too many mecha at once.

"Wing," a familiar gravely voice greeted him on entering as he swept the room for occupants.

Turning toward the voice, Wing smiled brightly. "Marwir." He walked over to the maroon femme that shared his frametype, wings flicking a greeting.

"So it's true," she considered the sparkling in Wings arms as tiny red optics glared at her. "He's not much better as a sparkling than a mech."

"I'm hoping that I can get him better socialized now, while he's like this." Wing tickled the tiny sparkling in his arms, distracting Drift quite effectively and earning a growly sound that Wing already recognized as a Drift-coo. "Just don't put your fingers too close if you don't want to get bitten."

An optic ridge raised. "Give me three orns and I'll break him of all those bad habits."

"You'd traumatize him for life in the process," the white mech teased, finding a place to sit. "I prefer my way of doing it."

"Just remember the offer stands," she said with a formal tone and friendly smile for her former student. "At least he's cute like that," she reached out, unafraid of being bitten. Drift, predictably, swiped at her hand but couldn't stop her from rubbing his helm no matter the growls, snaps or swipes.

"He's even cute when he's trying to be fierce," Wing agreed, chuckling at the batting and swiping. He tickled around Drift's chest armor and sides, hoping to distract the sparkling.

"Yes he is," Marwir chuckled, withdrawing her hand when his field went from annoyed to distressed. "You have quite a task ahead of you."

"Tell me something I haven't figured out," the white jet agreed. "But it will be very worth it, if his adult behavior changes." He cooed to Drift, rubbing the small chest and back.

"He does seem to _trust_ you," Marwir hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting."

"When he first came out of stasis he was trying to fight me off as much as he was Redline, but after he calmed down a bit he pressed close to me and stayed there." A warm smile appeared on Wing's face.

"He clearly associates you with safety," she resisted the urge to touch again. "Go on, Demeter looks ready to burst."

Wing chuckled, flicked his wings at Marwir and got to his pedes to walk over to where Demeter sat, watching them intently with bright golden optics. "Careful of your fingers; he bites," he warned the turbofox-alt femme as he sat down. Unlike every other encounter, however, Drift simply looked at her. He didn't growl, or bare his denta, or even swipe at her when she reached out to pet his helm. He tensed against Wing, but didn't strike out.

"I guess he sees you as less of a threat, being closer to his size and fluffy," Wing mused after watching for a moment. "Or maybe he likes you somewhat."

"I would expect the former," she smiled at the uncertain sparkling, teeking every detail of his mixed reaction to her light touch. He liked being touched, but something made him nervous about it too. "He has no reason to like me."

The young jet rubbed Drift's crest with a fingertip. "I'm pretty sure she won't bite you," he told the sparkling. "No tail- or ear-pulling, please."

"You're going to give him ideas," Demeter snickered and flicked her tail into the sparkling's line of sight, drawing immediate attention and giving her a chance to rub the bottom of his pedes for a giggle. "But it makes for a good distraction."

"I see he's already socializing better," a deep rumbling base of a voice startled Wing enough that Drift managed to launch himself from his guardian's arms.

Wing jumped, scrambling to catch the tiny white grounder and squawking when he missed. Almost falling out of his chair, he peered under the table at his cowering, blatantly terrified charge pressed as hard as he could against the wall under a chair, then looked up at Dai Atlas. "Primus! Wear a bell around your neck!"

Demeter transformed and leapt down, offering a bit of protection from what rattled the sparkling so badly. It took her a moment to notice that he was hissing sharply, his armor puffed out and pulled against him in a combination that provided the most protection while still making him look bigger. It was a skill most had to learn and took time to master.

"Not that much better," Dai Atlas cocked his helm, easily able to pick out the small ball of furious-terrified sparkling hiding under the table, chair and behind two Knights.

"It's only our first try at this," Wing pointed out, crawling under the table to try and coax his charge out of his hiding place. "Give him time. It'll take more than one day for anything to change, carrier."

"I had hoped that with his memories fully suppressed he might act like a normal sparkling," Dai Atlas shrugged, watching as his creation coaxed and gently tugged the snarling, sputtering, hissing and growling little creature out from under the table. "Clearly his problems run far deeper than a poor upbringing and violent environment."

Despite Wing's best efforts, the fear radiating off Drift from touching distance made the display and struggling painfully different than the visual presented.

"Best we can tell, he was an aggressive spark to begin with, judging from his behavior," Wing replied between coaxing efforts to calm the frantic sparkling down. "What could have caused him to be like this even now, without any memory of his previous life... I'm not sure I want to know." Shifting, Wing managed to awkwardly boot his carrier's ankle. "Could you back off a bit, please? He is absolutely terrified."

Dai Atlas stared down at the snarling, growling thing in Wing's arms. "That hardly looks terrified," he huffed, but backed off as requested and watched as the display toned down a bit, Drift eventually accepting Wing's efforts and physical shielding from the giant.

"He's trying to scare you off. But I can feel his field, and he is terrified of you." Wing returned to his seat, cooing soothingly to Drift, rubbing his back and sides and helm crest. "It's okay, little one. I won't let him hurt you."

The growling didn't end, but it settled into a low vibration now that Drift couldn't perceive the giant's presence.

"Minibot syndrome," Demeter chuckled, sitting on the table in alt mode. "All bluster and aggression to conceal how weak they feel. He tolerated Marwir after a bit of display, and I barely got a scowl, but you are big enough he feels too threatened to handle. Tag on not having linguistics yet, limited mobility and no memories and I can probably tell you how he'll react to any mecha before it happens."

"I do admit I'd take the hiding over trying to attack Dai's ankles," Wing noted after a moment, looking up briefly. "That would just have been awkward."

Dai Atlas huffed, but didn't hide the smile creeping across his features. "More awkward would be if he'd decided I was climbing material like the last sparkling we had around here."

"Then you'd've had me climbing up after him, and everyone in the rec room laughing at you," the white jet retorted, flicking a grin up at the blue triple changer, who rolled ruby optics.

"I had quite enough of that from you," Dai Atlas huffed to several snickers. "Just remember that while he's a sparkling, he's under the same rules as all sparklings. We're all here to help raise him. He's still your responsibility, however."

Wing's grin widened at the comment, then he nodded. "I think the hardest part will be finding mecha he doesn't immediately find threatening, who will be able to help me watch him without him trying to hide or bolt from them."

"From what I saw there are already two," Dai Atlas pointed out. "I think he's ready for a nap."

"I'd say so," the white stunt jet agreed after a klik of watching Drift trying to fight the siren song of recharge. "And that's my cue to head back to my quarters with him." Wing shifted his grip on Drift, freeing one hand to give Demeter a quick scratch behind the ears, then got to his pedes and made his way out of the rec lounge.

* * *

Nine orns into caring for Drift as a sparkling had left Wing desperate for any ideas to convince the clingy sparkling to move even a few paces away for a few kliks. He could understand clingy. He'd been there more than once. But Drift didn't play, didn't explore, didn't seem to understand toys, didn't show any signs of being normal. Finally, in a fit of desperation, he put Drift on the floor of his quarters and fished out an old toy from the orns when he couldn't get enough of torturing his carrier.

The tiny red dot appeared on the floor close to where Drift was looking and red optics locked onto it.

Wing's optics brightened as he saw Drift's optics focus on the dot. Wings twitching against his back, he moved the dot in slow loops and circles around the sparkling, watching to see how Drift would react.

After the first loop Drift was predicting the pattern and speed if Wing kept it steady and slapping at it with an intensity that rivaled Dai Atlas but not nearly the manic look.

Letting out a chirr, a bright smile appearing on his face, Wing began varying the patterns, adding in spirals and sudden changes of direction. The dot moved ever so slightly faster, staying just ahead of Drift's swatting hands. It soon took a fair amount of effort to keep the dot away from his charge without cheating by making it move away faster than the sparkling could follow.

It was a lot like playing with Dai Atlas, but Drift actually seemed to be enjoying the game.

Wing also had to remind himself to keep the dot on the floor. Dai Atlas could fly, so with him chasing the dot up the wall and across the ceiling was an option. Drift was a grounder right to his spark core, which meant Wing had to keep the dot on the floor.

"Get the dot!" the white mech encouraged, watching in fascination as his charge displayed the traits of a fine hunter or warrior, and a tenacious one. More than half a joor later Drift was still chasing, but he was tiring and beginning to falter.

Finally Wing let Drift catch the dot, chuckling softly when a small hand slapped down on it. The chuckle got slightly louder when Drift realized the dot was now _on his hand_ and swiped at it with his other hand.

A growl rumbled up from Drift's engine as he separated his hands and slapped them together over where he saw the dot. The growl got louder when Drift saw the dot on his hands again.

Wing eventually snapped the laser pointer off as Drift's hands came together, smiling proudly at his charge and discreetly stashing the toy in subspace. "You defeated the Red Dot!"

The sparkling trilled -- actually _trilled_ \-- with evident pride. It only lasted a moment before he wavered, his optics dimming noticeably.

"Time for my fierce little warrior to recharge," the jet crooned, picking Drift up and carrying him over to the soft nest of pillows and blankets he'd assembled on the berth. Setting Drift in it, the jet curled around it, humming softly. It was the first stage to deal with what Redline referred to as separation anxiety. Wing's field and voice were there, but Drift wasn't against his plating. So far it had worked passably. If Wing sank into recharge Drift would find his way to plating, but as long as Wing was aware enough to avoid it there wasn't much fuss.

* * *

The first time Drift decided to explore more than a few paces away from Wing had been a delight to the stunt jet, right up to the point when it sank in that Drift had leaned how to open the energon storage cabinet where Wing kept several orns of rations for them both, including cubes of high grade for company. The jet actually managed to trip himself scrambling to his feet and darting over. "Drift! Be careful in there; that energon is too strong for you!" Part of his processor noted that it was time to find a lock for that cabinet. Drift was a very determined little sparkling and rapidly becoming very mobile.

Instead of freezing the white sparkling grabbed the nearest cube, one of regular jet grade, and tried to scramble away. His coordination wasn't quite what he thought it was and he tumbled off the cabinet stand, landing on the cube. While the shattering of the cube and gushing of liquid cushioned the fall, it also coated Drift in what qualified as strong high grade to his adult frame.

"Don't eat that!" Wing almost fell on his face as he reached out to catch Drift's arm. "That's way too strong for your systems. Even as an adult it would be very strong. If you try eating that your head will hurt very badly and it might make you sick."

Drift scowled and suddenly Wing realized that this was a very important test of trust. Sensors would be telling Drift this was energon to be consumed. Wing said not to.

In a flash of panic Wing wondered if Drift even understood words yet. Did the linguistic center hook up at all before the vocalizer could use it?

Wing shook his head at the sparkling. "No. Do not eat it. It's for mechs with wings, not wheels." He picked up the sparkling, making a face at the energon smeared all over thin armor. "What a mess."

Drift chirped and looked at him, then over his shoulder, then back to his optics with a curious teek to his field.

"You don't have wings, little one," Wing told him with a soft chuckle. He flared his own, wiggling them before folding them again.

Drift pointed and squealed, his field broadcasting a mixture of shock and interest.

Slender white wings flared out again, wiggling and flicking. Wing smiled at the reaction. "I fly. You're a grounder through and through."

Drift nodded slowly.

"I use a stronger energon. Too strong for sparklings. Strong enough to get adult grounders overcharged fairly easily. If you try to drink it now, the results would not be pleasant." Wing tickled Drift, looking him over. "And you need a bath."

One thing Wing had learned quickly was that showering with a sparkling was awkward, to say the least. Squirmy bitlets and cleanser-slicked plating were a bad combination. After that revelation (and some teasing from his creators), Wing had found a sparkling-sized tub and brought it to his quarters. This was the first test of how Drift took to it. Setting Drift next to it where Wing could keep an optic on him, the jet began filling the tub. To his surprise, and amusement, the cleansers created a sea of bubbles covering the surface.

Drift rather predictably hunkered down and hissed at the motion. When it didn't stop he growled and swiped at them, popping several. His growl turned to a growling trill and his entire frame language shifted with a grin.

The stunt jet had prepared himself for a struggle to get Drift in, seeing him hissing at the bubbles. When Drift started popping the bubbles, it got a chuckle from Wing. "Is that fun?" He poked a bubble, popping it.

A growl of pure triumph was Drift's response, along with popping of more bubbles. There was no resistance when Wing lifted the sparkling and set him in the tub. It only resulted in more bubbles being assaulted. Chuckling, Wing took advantage of the distraction to scoop up a handful of cleanser and pour it slowly over Drift's helm, using his hand to gently swish the liquid about. The energon was still wet, though sticky, so getting it off would be fairly easy as long as Drift cooperated. Hopefully there wouldn't be much scrubbing involved.

It still amazed him on occasion how tolerant Drift seemed to be of anything he did. What he was fairly sure was tolerance and even building trust in the adult that didn't like to talk was much more clearly displayed by a sparkling who couldn't talk. With having to rely on Wing for everything it gave the jet so many opportunities to understand that Drift, young or old, really did trust him.

The truth made Wing smile, and gave him much more hope for what Drift could become as an adult again. On a very real level, he hoped that the answer to this reversal was time. To have Drift grow up in New Crystal City and have at least a century before dealing with adult issues once more.

It wasn't long before the sticky energon was off Drift's plating and out of whatever seams it had gotten into. Wing played with the sparkling, poking bubbles across the surface, tickling the small helm finials, and taking the opportunity to clean all the other accumulated grime from Drift's frame that collected every orn. Only when all the bubbles were gone and the cleanser starting to cool did Wing lift Drift out, carrying him toward the air dryer.

The sparkling didn't seem to associate anything with it, which with Drift was a good thing. The moment the air turned on however, Drift screeched and clawed frantically at the force pressing down on him.

That was not a reaction Wing had anticipated. Startled, he almost lost his grip on Drift, looking from sparkling to dryer and back. Once he was sure Drift wasn't going to twist out of his arms, the jet shut off the dryer, looking at Drift in confusion. "I promise you, it's harmless."

Drift growled back at him, his field a riot of agitation and dark not-quiet-memories.

"Okay, then, air-drying is out." Wing thought for a moment, then placed Drift on a counter, went to the cabinet where he kept cloths and towels for cleaning up spills and polishing armor. Finding the softest one he had, he brought it over to Drift, showing it to the sparkling. "Better?"

A sort-of coo and nod answered the question, the first direct, adult-type response as Drift reached for it. Wing let Drift take it, wrapping the free end around the small frame. Using a corner, he rubbed at beads of cleanser caught behind Drift's audial finials. "Much better than that evil air dryer, yes?"

Drift nodded again with a flash of possessive approval for what was going on and began to mimic what Wing was going, rubbing the towel against his thin armor.

The jet trilled encouragement, using the very corner to tickle an audial finial. "Just like that. Very good."

* * *

Wing was almost running through the corridors of the Citadel, heading back to his quarters. He'd had to participate in an important meeting of the Circle, with almost all of the Knights in attendance. Sparklings had not been allowed, which meant the white jet had had to leave Drift behind. He'd found an Initiate willing to watch the tiny grounder for a few joors, though the whole time he'd been chafing at the bit to get back to Drift.

"I'm back!" he trilled as he bounced through the door. "That meeting ran a little long, but..."

A nanoklik later his optics actually registered the scene in the room, and Wing stopped in mid-sentence to stare. What had once been coils of fine wire and binding cord in a dozen colors was in an intricate tangle thought the living room. His charge and the mechling Dive were nowhere to be seen.

"Come back here!" Dive's frantic voice sounded a moment later from the meditation room before a blur of white trailing white was aimed at Wing.

He felt Axe's presence against his back and the deep rumbling waves of amusement through the big mech's field. "I see he's no less respectful than he was, but it's much cuter results."

Bending down, Wing scooped up the white blur, taking in the loops of fine cord wrapped around Drift's limbs, and couldn't help laughing. "I see somebody's been busy." He gently tweaked a finial tip. "Time to get a better lock for that cabinet, too."

Drift trilled, cooed and sort-of-growled at Wing for holding him, but his field was smooth and in fairly good humor.

"And possibly the doors as well," Axe chuckled, looking down at the two white mechs as a white and purple mechling stumbled out of the meditation room, completely tangled in cord and wire.

"Wing, I tried, I really did. I had no idea he was that fast, or that he could open doors yet," Dive stammered in the face of two very important Knights and what he saw as a failed duty. "I did keep him out of the energon."

"I hadn't thought he'd behave so differently when someone else watches him, though I probably should have." Wing had to smile at the walking tangle that was Dive. "I think extricating you from that snarl is going to be an interesting venture. Looks like he got you pretty thoroughly tangled."

Turning slightly, Wing looked up at his sire, chuckling again. "I have three different locks on the door and the balcony doors. Drift is one very determined little sparkling."

"That is one thing he'll never grow out of," the large black mech chuckled as he reached down to stroke Drift's helm very gently. He was growled then clicked at, but Drift didn't try to escape this time.

"He's also very good at getting into the smallest spaces," Dive murmured as he began work on extracting himself, trying not to damage the cords as he went.

"Makes playing hide-and-seek with him interesting," Wing agreed, picking at the loops caught on Drift's armor. "A few times I've gotten stuck trying to coax him out."

Dive looked up, startled by the statement that a sparkling had outmaneuvered a full Knight. Drift looked over at him and chirped, a smug pride dancing across his field.

"When he puts his processor to it, he can be quite the little devil." Leaning down, Wing nuzzled the tiny helm, chuckling at the look it got him. Shifting his hold on the sparkling, the white jet used his free hand to pry a loop of cord out where it had gotten caught in a small joint.

"Have fun untangling your quarters," Axe chuckled and turned to leave.

"I am _very_ sorry, Wing. I really did try to keep him under control," Dive quivered in shame.

"You're just running off so I won't make you help!" Wing called after his sire with a snort and a mock fist shake. Shaking his helm, he finished untangling Drift, picking his way through the mess over to Dive. "I guess I should have considered that just because he behaves, more or less, for me doesn't mean he will for everybody. Now, let's get you untangled and see about cleaning up this mess."

* * *

After three decaorns of caring for sparkling Drift, Wing was finally settling into the role of a creator figure, more or less. It had taken orns and several panicked calls to Redline before he'd started to calm down. Which the medic was no doubt glad for after having gotten pulled out of recharge several times in the middle of the night. The sparkling was growing so fast, it seemed like he had to go in to have his armor refitted every few orns. Even Redline was surprised at the rate. Wing had quickly taken to putting the sparkling into stasis before walking to the medbay. It saved everyone stress.

Right now, however Wing was on hands and knees in the living room of his quarters, playing with Drift. The sparkling had figured out that the padding on the couch could come off and had built a little makeshift fort with it and the pillows. The white jet was playing the part of the intruding cyber-dragon while Drift fended him off with a long-handled spoon he'd found somewhere.

The sparkling roared as he charged, batting at Wing with a fighter's instincts. Optics, helm, hands, joints, throat. He didn't hold back either, but Wing took harder blows with practice swords every orn.

The jet batted back with his hands, though with much less force, sneaking in a tickle when he could get away with it. He kept his wings tucked close to his back, as Drift was hitting hard enough to sting the sensitive appendages.

The spoon made a loud clang as it hit Wing's upper chest armor. Laughing, the jet rolled onto his back, taking care not to accidentally collapse the fort. That had happened several times, and every time it had gotten him a scolding in sparkling-chatter. "I am defeated!"

Drift clicked and rumbled a growl of approval at his accomplishment and falling back on some code that Wing didn't understand, quickly retreated to the fort, leaving Wing were he'd fallen. Red optics glared out from the shadows as Drift hunkered down in his domain, once more scanning for enemies.

::Safe to enter?:: Thorn pinged Wing's comm. Everyone who visited Wing regularly had the door code, but had learned quickly that it was no longer entirely safe to enter unannounced. A startled, frightened or aggressive Drift lost all sense of his limitations and would often jump off surfaces too high for him, or misjudge his strength and fall short or impact a wall by going too far. Occasionally he'd still try to escape. Three trips to Redline, the culprit tagging along trying to apologize and calm a distraught Wing and snarling Drift, had spread the information throughout the Citadel.

::Yes, he's on the ground near the far wall.:: Wing replied. ::We're playing fort.::

"I see he won," Thorn chuckled as he walked inside and took in the visual of his friend playing deactivated on the floor an arm's length from the pillow fort with two red points of light glaring outwards. Hissing, clicking growls emitted from the security of the shadow when Thorn walked up to help Wing to his pedes, but that sound turned to a more satisfied humming growl when the pair retreated to the now cushionless couch and sat down on the ground to use the side as a backrest.

"He did indeed," the white jet chuckled, leaning against Thorn's side and resting his helm on the dark mech's shoulder, watching the little red optics watch them from the shadows of the pillow fort. "He wields a mean spoon."

"He'll wield a sword just as well," Thorn suggested gently. "If your carrier can become our Sovereign of Light, Drift can learn to embrace the spiritual side of combat."

"Might take a little longer for him to take to than the actual swordhandling, though," Wing pointed out, shifting slightly and leaning closer. "He wasn't much for the spiritual before."

"It's a path several former military Knights have walked," Thorn said gently, regarding the glaring, defiant optics watching them. "Perhaps more importantly, what else can a mecha like him be in this city?"

"You do have a point," the white mech hummed. "I would have suggested police, but he's too hot-tempered for that."

"He doesn't have the patience for search and rescue or emergency response either. I think he'd do well when there was work to do, but when there isn't he's get fidgety. Has he shown an inclination for anything but fight-play?"

"Playing hide-and-seek, and keeping me getting new locks for everything," was the reply as Wing snuggled closer and began to absently stroke black armor. "He's a slippery and persistent little mech."

"He was a slippery, persistent and volatile adult," Thorn chuckled before reflexes kicked up and set him into the air just fast enough to be missed by the white sparkling's snarling lunge.

"Rine!" Drift snarled heatedly from halfway up Wing's frame, his field explosive in possessive anger.

Wing jumped in surprise. He hadn't expected Drift to move that quickly. "Drift...?"

The sparkling met his optics with a determined expression. "Rine."

The white jet blinked, lifting one hand to run it down Drift's back. Then he looked up at Thorn. "Sorry about that... I didn't expect him to be so possessive."

The black jet landed and regarded the pair, noticing how quickly Drift settled at Wing's attention. "I suppose that's easier to work with than some other traits. At least he's compliant to you, rather than possessive-dominant. Was that the first time he almost got a word right?"

"Yes, that's the first," Wing confirmed. He rubbed Drift's back, coaxing the sparkling to settle against his chest armor. "He's not much of a talker, other than the occasional sparkling-chatter."

"Never was," Thorn pointed out with a chuckle. "I'll leave you to settle your little miscreant. He's growing up _fast_."

"Too fast, some might say, while others say not fast enough." Wing nuzzled Drift's helm. "You can stop growling at him now, little one."

Drift humphed and continued to glare until Thorn left, the black mech stifling his amusement until the door closed. Only then did Drift shift to a low purr and snuggled against Wing's armor.

The white mech shifted, holding Drift against his chest plating. "Such a fierce little mech you are."

Drift trilled and purred happily, the sound rough but unmistakable. There was no mistaking that the sparkling considered it a compliment.

Wing laughed softly, finding a more comfortable position and leaning back. "You are going to be a terror when you're adult again," he murmured affectionately.

* * *

Wing was recharging calmly, enjoying the softness of his berth and the warmth of the room when a high-pitched scream of pure, unadulterated terror echoed through his very frame. Sheer surprise made the white jet's frame jolt in response as it tried to move before booting up. He was still booting on emergency protocols when a sizable object impacted his chest and remained there, quivering and keening in distress when his processor was still trying to sort itself out. As soon as he could move, he wrapped arms around the distressed bundle, blinking his optics to reboot them and looking down. "Drift? What's wrong?"

The white sparkling, now nearly halfway to the youngling stage despite being only six metacycles old, would only keen and occasionally scream in terror as he clawed at Wing, desperate to hold on. The memory replay still had a full grip on him, his frame moving even if his processors were not yet rational.

Wing curled himself around the smaller white frame, wrapping his field around Drift, radiating reassurance and comfort. He rubbed Drift's back, trying to break the replay's hold, but its grip was too strong and the sparkling continued to cry, scream and whimper. Occasionally real words came out, pleading, cursing, promises of revenge. Under it all, however, it was pure terror. A special flavor of terror that Wing eventually recognized.

Flight terror.

This was what Drift teeked when Wing had taken him up. Only then Drift had tried to control it.

Slender wings twitched and shifted against Wing's back. One hand shifted on Drift's frame, finding a hardline dataport. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what terrified Drift so badly, but he wanted to get his charge out of that memory replay without involving Redline, if it was possible.

He plugged in and was assaulted by anticipatory fear. Tidbits floated in the emotion. Being _high_. Being bound. Being held by the stasis cuffs by a flyer, a Seeker.

Drift's vents hiccupped and the reply contained the wind, the pull of gravity, the friction of ever-thickening atmosphere.

Being caught, the jolt to his frame. Pain barely registered but it was there.

Going up again. Seeing water below.

The fall.

Grounder coding all but glitching him at what was going on.

Wing's whole frame jolted. No wonder Drift was so afraid of flying. ~Drift!~ He flailed briefly against unfamiliar grounder coding, reaching out, trying to project the feel of being caught and brought safely to the ground. ~Drift! You're having a nightmare; break free of it!~

Reflex even more deeply ingrained than his fear of flight latched onto the trail of Wing's comment, the signature on it. He _pulled_.

_Catch_

_Fear_

_Catch me!_

It took a klik for Wing to get his bearings. When the memory-Seeker dropped Drift again, Wing reached in, adding an image of himself swooping in and catching the falling grounder, wrapping his arms firmly around Drift's frame, carrying him away from the Seeker and down to the ground for a soft, slow landing.

Drift, both the one in the sparkling's mind and the frame curled against Wing's both calmed quickly when mental pedes touched ground softly. He was still shaking terribly, the combat rush of pure, core deep fear had nowhere to go and little way to burn itself out, so Drift vibrated, shivering and making small sounds of distress. Still, he calmed and the mental landscape began to fade, settling down to where memories normally lay.

Once he was sure that Drift had thrown off the replay, Wing slowly withdrew, watching carefully for any further signs of distress. He was still curled around the sparkling, rubbing his back and helm, surrounding Drift in his field. Crooning softly, he wrapped his arms around Drift and just held him. Time passed slowly, but he could feel it as Drift gradually began to calm, then sink into an exhausted recharge where he lay when the fear-charge finally wore off.

Wing stayed awake for another two breems after Drift settled into recharge, only then sinking back into recharge himself. He remained curled protectively around Drift, holding the smaller frame close.

* * *

A vorn after being turned into a sparkling, Drift had settled into a predictable growth rate at three times the norm. Even if they couldn't find a cure, he'd have his adult frame again in around sixty vorns, and his mechling upgrades at close to fifty. He was now reasonably articulate, but with very limited memory access and generally _pissed_ about it.

Right now, however, he was in recharge and Wing couldn't think of a more adorable sight.

The white jet leaned carefully on the berth, chirring very very softly to keep from disturbing the sparkling. In sleep the hard lines of Drift's face softened out, making him look younger and much less growly. It was something that Wing was entranced by. 

Eventually, Wing peeled himself away from the berth, padding across the room. Drift was old enough to be left alone in their quarters, at least for brief periods. The white flier took the opportunity to go and have a chat with his creators. It was a fine idea, in theory. In practice, he really hadn't accounted for his charge's temperament quite enough.

A low growl, half upset and half triumphant, interrupted Wing less than three breems later. Axe's optics were wide and bright with mischief, while Dai Atlas was simply staring at the door when it opened.

The unexpected noise startled Wing into jerking, though he managed to keep from actually jumping. Golden optics wide, he twisted around on Axe's lap and stared over at the open door and his small white charge glaring defiantly back at him.

"You left." Drift's tone was accusatory.

"I had intended to be back before you woke up." Slender wings twitched and trembled against Wing's back.

"Go collect him," Axe nudged Wing firmly. "He's your creation for all practical purposes."

Wing scooted off Axe's lap to trot across the room and herd an unhappy Drift inside to let the door close. Humming apologetically, he walked toward his creators, reaching down to run his fingers over Drift's helm crest. The sparkling hummed happily at the contact but was decidedly displeased at the direction they were headed.

There was still no questioning how much Drift disliked being anywhere near Dai Atlas, and the giant rarely helped matters, even when he was trying to be nice.

"I hadn't expected him to come looking for me," the white jet told his creators apologetically, stopping a short distance away. He was still stroking Drift's crest, knowing without looking down that the sparkling was glaring at the two much larger mechs. He could feel Drift pressing against his leg and the quiet rumble of his engine in distress.

"Clearly," Dai Atlas hummed, watching the scene. "Unfortunately we are no closer to fixing him any faster than time will."

Wing's shoulder pinions drooped ever so slightly. "No one's had any luck coming up with a way to reverse what happened to him?"

"Why would they even try?" Drift muttered bitterly. "I'm much easier to control this way."

"Actually, you are not," Dai Atlas grumbled. "Most mecha have deeply set protocols against harming a sparkling or youngling and you are just as difficult as your adult form. Only at this stage of maturity I can't hit you."

Drift cocked his helm at that, thinking about it in the way that made him go quiet.

"Only time. He is growing at three times the normal rate, so he'll be in his adult frame again in sixty vorns or so," Axe shrugged. "And punchable in about fifty."

White armor bristled as Wing glowered at his sire. A klik later a shiver rattled white plating, then Wing forced it to settle flat to his frame. "Perhaps it would be a good time to begin introducing Drift to meditation and the ways of the Circle?"

"You mean sitting still like you do," Drift looked up, utterly unimpressed with the idea.

"Anything that socializes him is a good idea, but he is _very_ young for the Circle," Dai Atlas scowled. "Why introduce him now?"

"It's still socialization, and the sword culture is something he should be able to relate to," the white jet pointed out. "Blunt training weapons, like the Initiates get before they're ready for real blades."

"I can handle real blades," Drift hissed, startling them all.

"All Knight Initiates are only given blunted training blades until their training has progressed to a point where they are judged ready for real weapons," Wing told the little white grounder, tweaking an audial tip. "I did when I started training. Even my creators started out with blunt blades."

"How do you know you can handle real blades?" Axe leaned forward a bit, his tone curious.

"I do," Drift pointed at Wing's nearest scabbard. "He recharges late. Sometimes I play with it."

The jet's jaw dropped slightly. "You play with my swords?" He sounded more than a little uneasy about that. One wing twitched, clattering against his Great Sword's blade.

"That one," Drift pointed to Wing's hip. "That one doesn't like me," he pointed to the Great Sword.

Dai Atlas chuckled. "It gave you a shock, didn't it?"

Drift glared at him and gave a hissing click of displeasure as he pressed closer to Wing, nearly getting between his guardian's legs.

"Yep, it shocked him," Axe laughed easily. "Apparently you need to upgrade your meditation room locks again."

"For the second time in three decaorns." Wing shook his helm in amazement. "But at least Too Pure didn't actually hurt him. It could easily have done so."

Drift simply harrumphed. "Big sword crazy as its designation."

Wing chuckled. "Big sword picky about who touches it." He rubbed behind one of Drift's audial finials, then looked at his carrier, waiting for Dai Atlas' decision.

The silence held for longer than made Wing comfortable, enough to make the white jet fidget in place, but eventually Dai Atlas nodded. "He is not an Initiate, but you may teach him what you can."

Wing's nacelle pinions pricked up at Dai Atlas' decision. "Thank you, carrier. Now, I should get Drift back to my quarters."

"And play with swords?" Drift perked up significantly.

" _Blunted_ swords," Wing replied as he picked the sparkling up. "Until I'm _sure_ you won't hurt yourself or anyone else with live blades."

"Haven't yet," Drift snapped back as they walked out, the sparkling unresisting in his guardian's arms. "Play with..." he scrunched his features up with a frustrated growl for the glyph he knew he should know but wouldn't come. Instead he pointed his hand, one finger extended and pointed at things. It was a spark-rending motion for Wing to see come from Drift. The mech had been unarmed since coming to the city, but in the single battle they'd shared Drift had displayed his mastery of the blaster all too well.

Golden optics dimmed. "None of that here, Drift." He caught Drift's raised hand, holding it in his own briefly. "And you're still only getting blunted blades."

The sparkling scowled but didn't fight the statement.

* * *

Twelve vorns had passed since Wing had begun training Drift in the sword skills and meditations of the Knights of Light. The hardest part had been instilling in Drift any amount of patience at all, be it for sitting still or waiting for the best opportunity to strike. He was as fierce as his adult self, possibly more so, but if the adult Drift hadn't been much for tactics, his sparkling and even youngling self didn't seem able to grasp the concept even existed. Yet in the last metacycle Wing had seen something. It was a small change, but it was there. Katas weren't rushed through quite as violently. While Drift wasn't good at them, he at least seemed to be honestly trying now.

It was that which earned Drift the reward of his first sparring match. Training with Wing didn't count, even if Drift had difficulty with that idea. He'd figure out the difference in his own time.

Wing led the youngling grounder toward the Citadel's sparring arenas, nodding greetings to other Knights along the way. Wing had asked around for a couple orns, and Demeter had agreed to the match. The small femme was former military as well as an experienced Master Knight. She was also one of the very few that Drift never really had hissed at and she'd helped Wing understand some of his charge's quirks and accept that some of what he saw as a challenge to convince Drift to overcome were inherent to the very spark of his charge. Though rare in the civilian world, she'd seen Drift's type often enough in military mecha to understand it intimately.

She'd rather gleefully pointed to his carrier every time he despaired of teaching Drift to be civilized. It could be done, but the trick wasn't in teaching Drift, but in working out how to make him want to learn.

Several other Knights were lingering around the training room doors, watching Wing and Drift approaching. Their training sessions had been attracting small audiences, to the occasional annoyance of both. Word that Drift would be sparring with someone other than Wing had clearly gotten around quickly beyond the few Knights that Wing had spoken to.

"What color do you want?" Demeter asked politely as she greeted them, standing on two pedes and relaxed. Her short swords and Great Sword were held by Dart so Drift couldn't grab one. Wing had learned that early on. If there was a real weapon anywhere in range, one could count on Drift to find it and use it. Even at a single vorn old in experience and four vorns old in frame, Drift had an instinct for combat and using what was at hand to _win_ that even impressed Dai Atlas, a mech who shared Drift's gift for violence.

Drift looked her over. "White."

"Thank you for agreeing to this, Demeter," Wing told the smaller femme, smiling warmly at her. He glanced up as the gathered mecha filed into the training room, leaning against the walls and settling in to watch.

"Of course," she smiled warmly at him before handing Drift a practice sword with a white edge. Hers was colored a deep red. When Wing found a spot to watch from she settled into a defensive posture and waited for the sparkling to come at her.

Twitching his wings, Wing settled back, watching with a critical optic. Drift was a fierce little youngling. He'd need a _lot_ more practice before he'd be a real challenge for Demeter, or any other Knight, but this would be good experience. It might be good for Wing as well. Demeter had trained several Knights, difficult Knights on occasion. She may show him a trick or two in how to teach this most difficult student.

Demeter was faster, more agile, and even stronger than Drift despite their comparable size. True to his nature, even knowing all that didn't make a dent in Drift's confidence, determination or aggression. He attacked, she sidestepped. He whirled on her, she neatly blocked. He snarled in frustration, she simply waited for him.

"Drift! Keep your focus!" Wing called to the grounder youngling, though he doubted Drift would actually listen. Still, he had to try. Eventually sheer repetition would imprint at least some of it on the grounder's processors. Practicality may imprint a bit more. Drift had shown a tendency for that as well. He learned practical far better than theory.

Demeter pinged him to open a comm line. ::How is he doing with his studies? Reading, meditation, history.::

::Getting him to sit down and concentrate is like training a glow beetle to stand on its hind legs and dance. Most of it goes in one audial and right out the other,:: Wing replied, letting out an audible snort. He knew her well enough to know that she was hiding a similar reaction to his description as she worked Drift through a variety of moves without ever telling him what was coming.

::What about story time?:: she asked as she moved slowly enough for Drift to block or dodged as he wished.

::As long as the stories are exciting, with lots of action, he'll pay attention. But add in one moral or lesson, and you can just see his optics glazing over.:: The white jet shifted, tilting his helm to the side as he watched.

::Don't be so sure of that,:: she flashed a grin directly at him without losing track of Drift. ::You didn't need your morals well hidden, but it can be done. I'll send some of my files over that worked for others like him. History can be taught the same way. Drift doesn't need to know dates. You can teach him history as stories. Interesting stories about the transition times between Primes, the exodus, the old cities, the founding of the Order, the Great Swords. Every Great Sword has a story of how it earned its designation that he'll listen to if it's told correctly. Remember your lesson on how you want to approach a pleasurebot differently than a potential lover, even though your hope for the encounter is much the same? Learning to speak to Drift is much the same.::

Wing's audial fins flared out. ::That sounds like it could work.::

::Good,:: she trilled, pleased that he could see the value in the method. ::How long do you want me to keep him working?::

::Until he starts seriously wavering. When you can see he's starting to wear out, then end it,:: the jet replied. ::Otherwise he'll spent the rest of the night growling that he could have continued fighting.::

::Sounds like any number of good mecha I can list,:: she laughed playfully and began to gradually push the thirteen vorn old sparkling harder and harder. His stress was easy to read by all, but so was his determination, and, gradually, his growing desperation as the match continued.

"Three joors?" a quiet voice next to him drew his attention to Marwir. "That's a long time for his age."

"He's a stubborn bitlet, will fight until he collapses if allowed," Wing answered, looking at the other stunt jet, his Daoshi.

"Your creators were much the same, particularly your carrier," she hummed. "Perhaps that is why Dai Atlas hates him so intensely. Drift represented everything about himself that the Order rejects."

"Would explain a few things." The white mech nodded. He turned back toward the training room floor, watching Drift and Demeter. The sparkling was massively outclassed and Wing had no doubt that Drift was well aware of it. He simply didn't have the capacity, even at this age, to surrender. It was as intrinsic Drift's nature as seeing the best in a mecha was in Wing's.

Demeter continued to move and Wing abruptly realized that Drift was _learning_. His movements, though he was starting to slow significantly, displayed a movement that Demeter had used on him, and he'd used it correctly. He still wasn't fast enough to land the strike, but he'd integrated something.

"She's very good at that," Marwir's tone was unusually respectful. "Few mecha can manipulate others as well as she does simply by existing."

"At least he's learning. She's getting through to him. Hopefully this will stick in his processors." White wings twitched as he watched, happy that someone could get through to his charge. "She thought of a way to teach him history and maybe even some moral lessons too."

"With stories?" Marwir smiled faintly. "I've seen her do that. I may get the distractible and stubborn ones like you, but her real talent lies with the ones who don't listen, or maybe even can't. It might not be a bad idea to suggest she be more involved in raising him," she said very gently. "You care for him deeply, but I think she _understands_ how he functions."

"She was military before becoming a Knight; I'm not surprised she knows the way his processor works better than I do," Wing pointed out. "I was created here, knowing nothing of war. I'm just glad Demeter can get through to Drift."

They quieted again as Drift struggled more and more over the next half joor. Many of those watching began to shift uneasily, looking between Wing and Demeter to finish. What was much more notable were those few who didn't, including Wing's creators.

Another breem and Demeter's manner shifted. She went after Drift with her full skill, dropping him within a nanokliks and pinning him until he stopped squirming half a klik later.

"That's enough." Wing stirred from where he'd been leaning against the wall, walking over to Demeter and Drift. "Enough for today."

For once, to Wing's mild surprise, there was no grumbling about being able to continue. Drift was wobbling when Demeter pulled him to his pedes, but he steadied enough to stand and follow Wing back to their quarters.

Once back in their quarters, Wing detoured briefly to grab a cube of energon, then herded Drift over to the berth. "You did well, Drift. Drink this, and then you can recharge."

The sparkling nodded and accepted the small cube, downed it with the same speed he always had and headed for the berth room.

* * *

Wing paced in the sky over the Citadel and a bit beyond it. Redline had tossed him off the balcony more than three joors ago and ordered him to stay away until called. If everything went well, that would not be for another ten joors. Drift, now fifty vorns after the accident, would be a mechling when he woke up with everything that implied. Interface protocols. A frame that other Knights would no longer be obliged not to damage. Access to most of his memories.

That last one probably troubled Wing the most. Though there was no questioning that Drift had settled quite a bit, he was still only marginally socialized by Citadel standards, never mind the far less violence-tolerating standards held by the city beyond. Memories had come back in bits and pieces, mostly traumas as far as Wing could work out, but how much of Drift's progress would survive remembering his former life?

On one hand, Wing was glad that Drift was returning to normal. On the other hand, he found himself wishing that Drift's memories of his past life had been erased, not just buried. It would have cut down on the nightmares. Several times Wing had woken from recharge to the sound of Drift screaming, and many times he had woken to find the white youngling pressed against him, shivering.

Slender wings trembled. What would Drift be like now, with the memories of his old life conflicting with the new memories? How much would he change? Questions swirling through his processors, Wing swung back over the Citadel. Other fliers kept out of his way, having figured out he was too distracted to watch out for them. It wasn't as if anyone didn't know what was happening to Wing's charge.

So Wing flew. Wing brooded. The joors passed.

::All right, you can come in now,:: Redline's grumble was enough to shake Wing free of all other thoughts.

The move Wing pulled once he heard that would have been next to impossible for a normal airframe. As it was, it made his struts ache and he was _built_ for such maneuvers. Other fliers darted out of his way as a streak of white descended toward the medical bay's balcony. Wing transformed and skidded to a landing, rooster tails of sparks flying behind him as he hit the floor.

"Primus Wing, it's not like he's running!" Redline scowled.

The white mech gave Redline a somewhat sheepish look, twitching his wings as he folded them. "The upgrades are finished?"

"Yes, I'm ready to bring him out of stasis," he nodded and motioned Wing into the recovery room where a lightly armored and slightly lighter build but very recognizable Drift was laying. "He's likely to be very distressed by the light armor, but the operation itself went smoothly. Much easier than the first rebuild I did on him." He reached down to plug in and begin the booting process for their troublesome guest.

The jet trotted over, taking up a spot on the opposite side of the berth from Redline. Gold optics watched intently as Drift began to boot, Wing's armor and pinions ruffling nervously as he waited. He watched as optics booted a pale blue, the same color he'd had his entire stay as an adult.

Drift's vocalizer cycled, but he didn't say anything as he sat up and began testing his motor controls.

"Drift?" Wing asked tentatively. He lifted a hand, but stopped just short of actually touching the grounder mechling's white armor and the field pulled too tightly to teek even at only a handspan away. Nacelle pinions flattening slightly, the jet waited.

"Wing," he huffed in reply as he continued his check. "Everything's intact."

He left it unquestioned whether that was a good or bad thing. It simply was.

"It's your mental state I'm more worried about," the white mech replied. "Two lives' worth of memories, even if one life has only been fifty vorns, would mess anyone up."

Drift shrugged. "It's not like there's any overlap. I didn't remember who I was for a while. It's not the first time."

Golden optics flickered in a blink. "But you are all right?"

"Getting there," Drift shrugged again. "Few more upgrades and I'll have my frame again." He paused and flicked his hand where his blasters once lived. "Mostly, anyway."

"And then you'll be back to your growly self." Wing grinned teasingly. He made another abortive move to touch Drift's arm.

Drift just grunted, which was better than a rejection, and stood.

"I'll see you in the morning," Redline nodded, well aware that Drift's type would feel more insulted than cared for by the offer of pain blockers or recharge aids.

"Let's get you back to our quarters before the real aches kick in." Wing brushed his fingers very lightly against Drift's arm, then headed for the door. He kept some painkillers in his quarters, mostly for use after particularly intense sparring sessions. They'd work for this just as well. That his charge, even now, followed him brought a small smile to his face. It had been a long time since he'd needed to worry about Drift trying to escape, or at least escape the city.

The few Knights they passed nodded to Wing and took in Drift's new appearance. Everyone understood he was about to be much more difficult, but also with much different priorities than his adult self. Wing returned the greetings from the other Knights, but didn't stop to chat with them. He remembered his own mechling upgrades and how badly he'd ached afterward. Suspecting that Drift would just want to recharge and try to skip the pain, he hurried his charge back to their quarters as quickly as he could manage, shooing Drift over to his berth before bringing in a cube of energon and a couple of painkillers.

"These will be here for when you need them." Wing showed the painkillers to Drift, then placed them on the berthside table.

Drift grunted and settled on the berth. His control of his field was already slipping, but it didn't express much more than his physical stress of integrating so many new parts. The energon went down quickly and Drift lay down, powering down quickly in the way he had done for so much of his existence to snatch as much recharge as possible when he never knew how long he'd have or how long it would be before he'd get to recharge again.

* * *

Four orns after his upgrades Drift on-lined with a start. His frame no longer ached, at least not from repairs, but he felt _molten_ in a most unpleasant way. A mixture of intense pleasure and building pain he'd long ago associated with Turmoil, but he was alone in his berth in Wing's quarters. He belonged to the Knight now, not his former commander. Without thinking about it, Drift reached down to rub his spike cover and felt it scalding hot before it snapped open. But instead of his spike jutting out as he'd expected, there was nothing but an intensifying of the pain. He could identify the pain now though. The beginnings of something tearing where his spike should be.

On the other berth, across the room, Wing stirred from where he'd been sprawled, napping. Golden optics reset several times as the jet peered over at Drift, his audial fins spreading out as he noticed his charge sit up and stare at his groin. "Drift?"

"What the _Pit_?" the mechling growled with accusatory optics more for his current situation that Wing.

Wing blinked again. "Is something wrong?" Uncurling, the jet indulged in a strut-popping stretch before sitting up.

"It's ... it's _sealed in_!" Drift snarled, pointing at his spike housing. "What kind of sick joke is this?"

It took Wing a klik to manage to answer. "No joke. Mine had seals when I received my mechling upgrades, too. The seals protect the new equipment. Breaking them does hurt, but only briefly and then never again."

Drift just stared at him, blue optics cycling a couple times before he huffed, growled and commanded his spike to extend. Pain tore at him, but it was nothing compared to a battle wound and easy to ignore.

Wing stared at Drift in stunned surprise for a long moment, watching the spike go back down on command, then as Drift began to pick pieces off and pull them with no apparent care for the pain it had to cause. "Most mechlings don't lose their seals until the first time they're in another mech's berth. Oral lubricants and softening oils make the seals come loose more easily and slightly less painfully."

"It's done," Drift shrugged as he tore the last scrap off. "Crazy medics," he muttered as he settled back down.

The white jet shook his helm incredulously. "The other one's not going to come off quite so... easily."

Pale blue optics gave him an incredulous look right back. "If _that_ comes off, it's hardly going to matter whether it's easy or not."

That got another long stare from a speechless white jet. "It wouldn't come off unless you're _ready_ for it to come off. It will be your choice as to when."

"Sometimes how naive you are still amazes me," Drift gave a bemused chuckle somewhere between dark and disbelieving. "I know you've seen enough of my memories to know just what I think of being taken."

Slender wings twitched behind Wing's back. "I am aware of that. I'm just hopeful that things will change, eventually."

Drift grunted, a sound so much like his adult self it made Wing sad, but the words that came chilled him. "Anytime you decide to, it's yours to take."

Wing whined softly, his armor clamping tight to his frame. He watched Drift for a long moment, then settled back down onto his berth.

* * *

The next six orns treated Wing to more than a few shows that Drift didn't know, or didn't care that he was giving. Mechling drives matched up with a general lack of self-control to produce a mecha with an interface drive higher than Wing's and even less inclination to deny himself when aroused. Even warned, Wing wasn't quite prepared for the change. He'd had a long time to get used to a completely interface-innocent youth.

He was much less prepared to finish booting up one morning to find Drift over him, aroused, venting unsteadily and staring at him with that mixture of hesitation and intense want. Wing blinked like a cyber-owl disturbed during the daytime briefly as the last of the boot process finished. It took a minute for the shape hovering over him to click. When it finally did and he recognized Drift, he fluttered his wings at the mechling. "Hi."

The growl that replied was less greeting and more warning, but the white mechling still leaned down and pressed his mouth against Wing's as he rubbed their frames together. To Wing, the mixed signals were easy to read. Drift was a simple being when you got right down to it. What most mecha thought of as just the basics of life were all Drift could perceive, and to have his spike pleasured was one of those basics. But with his memories intact, what should have been a simple question became a fight. What Drift wanted was something he thought he had to _take_ , not something that would be given. Yet he was trying, and Wing moaned into the clumsy first learning how to do it kiss with all the encouragement he could muster.

The white jet chirred and trilled encouragement as he returned the clumsy kiss, lifting one hand to run his fingertips lightly down Drift's back. His field brushed against Drift's as Wing shifted onto his back instead of being partially curled on his side, wings fanning out against the berth surface. It was a response that confused the mechling above him, but arousal wasn't going to let Drift think too much. 

One hand reached down to curl against Wing's valve cover, stroking it instead of trying to tear it. One leg shifted, moving out of the way as Wing's valve cover popped open. Lubricant glistened around the edges of the lower platelets already. Wing moved his hips into Drift's hand, wings fluttering. It was enough to draw a groan from the mechling. Drift brought his hand up to brace himself and pressed his hips forward. He couldn't hide his surprise at how easily he slid inside Wing, or how _good_ it felt.

The sound Wing made was part trill and part moan as Drift's spike pressed into his valve. It felt so good. Wing's other hand came up, teasing along the seams of the plates covering Drift's back, seeking out the most sensitive places. It earned a groan from Drift, but all the mechling's focus was on thrusting, on burying himself deep inside the slick, tight heat and losing himself in the pleasure it brought.

It was only a couple of kliks before the rhythm faltered when Drift's charge rose too high for him to control. Wing's hips moved into each thrust, his valve calipers rippling, trying to draw Drift's spike in deeper. He blinked hazy optics at the white grounder, fingers finding and sliding into a seam between two armor plates.

Drift let out a deep groan as his charge crested and broke over him. Cables tightened, driving him in deeper and grinding his array against Wing's as he pumped crackling hot transfluid deep into the jet's valve.

A soft whine escaped the white jet. His charge was high and getting higher, but not high enough to overload yet. He worked his fingers into Drift's armor seams, gliding the tips over the circuitry, while his valve calipers worked along the spike still buried in his valve, trying to entice Drift to keep moving. It didn't take much once Drift's frame unlocked. The endurance he displayed in sparring he brought to the berth, and with just as much eagerness.

Drift nipped sharply at Wing's jaw, working towards his throat. It was a pure dominance display, an adolescent checking and pushing of boundaries, but the slide of his hips was just as eager as before and just as pleasing.

The jet retaliated with a gentle nip to Drift's cheek armor, managing to crane his neck just enough to be able to nibble at the mechling's crest and part of one audial finial. Red-trimmed armor flared, releasing heat from Wing's systems, wings wiggling and flicking against the berth surface as he was driven into with everything Drift had. There was little skill or intent to please Wing in the movements, something that made Wing sad for his charge that a mecha old enough to remember well before the war began had never learned to touch for pleasure or for another.

Hopefully, though, with some subtle urging and enough time, Drift would learn.

A moan escaped Wing, his back arching and hips pressing into Drift's thrusts, taking the grounder mechling's spike in deeper. The jet's helm fell back, exposing his throat as golden optics flickered and dimmed. It felt good, even if Drift's technique was decidedly unrefined, he had the willing endurance to make up for it until he could pick up the fact that mutual pleasure was far more intense than simply getting off.

Soon Drift was panting against Wing's throat, his entire frame focused on the rolling undulation of their pleasure and the flow of electrons that signaled pleasure. Wing's cooling fans were whirring loudly as his internal temperature rose, his charge rising higher and higher. His armor was practically standing on end, vibrating from the revving of his engines. Golden optics glowed almost white as he got closer and closer to overload.

Drift arched, his helm thrown back and hips jamming forward as he bellowed his second overload, even more intense than the first. Energy danced across his frame and into Wing's while transfluid pumped directly against the most sensitive nodes. Wing's cry was half shriek and half moan. He wrapped his arms around Drift, valve calipers clamping down on Drift's spike and holding it still. Excess charge crackled over the jet's armor, leaping off onto the berth and onto Drift's frame as thrust after thrust Drift grunted and spilled his pleasure into Wing until he was left shuddering and spent on top of the stunt jet, their charge finally spent or grounded.

Once his frame unlocked, Wing sank back onto the berth, the high rev of his engines spooling down to a vibrating purr. His calipers finally loosened around Drift's spike, though the jet made no move to dislodge the grounder. Letting his optics dim, Wing let out a soft trill, settling back to doze again. He remained aware enough to notice that Drift didn't move, even when he could feel the mechling was quite capable of it. It brought a smile to his lip plates that Drift wanted to remain against him even when the interface was over.

**Author's Note:**

> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter
> 
> From: [http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13194240t13194240](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13194240)
> 
> I really want to see a cute Wing/Drift where Drift gets turned into a sparkling for a time. So I got this great idea around one am after several days of sleep deprivation. Bear with me while I try to explain.
> 
> While in the New Crystal City, through shenanigans of aa's choice, Drift gets turned into a sparkling. (Preferably one old enough to move around on its own, but not really old enough to talk yet). Wing, of course, and some of the other knights find sparkling!Drift adorable, and fawn over him. I think it would be funny if he either remembered his time as an adult or vaguely remembers something. If he remembers he should be compelled to do childish things. When anyone who is not Wing tries to play with him or whatever, he's all super solemn and they are like "Wing I think your child is broken."
> 
> Inevitably Wing has to spend time with other knights. Drift is jealous. He wants Wing's attention and he wants it now.
> 
> I would be incredibly happy if at some point Drift gets the idea that Wing does not want him around/love him anymore. He runs away and Wing goes super-worried-protective-parent and frantically searches for him. Bonus points if Axe or Dai Atlas find a crying baby Drift and take him home. Cause even they can't resist a child in distress. Wing finds him and is between joyful and worriedly angry.
> 
> Eventually Drift gets turned back to normal, either whatever turned him wears off or the NCC Medics find a way to reverse it. Happy, enthusiastic interfacing and cuddles ensues.
> 
> Please and thank you!


End file.
